A Boat Is a Lever

    Check out the rash speckling his

    Right hand and found out he had

    Leukemia， that the cancer had spread

    Into his lungs， then where did he go？

    I've called his number several times.

    Flat-bottom boats light in water.

    Brown brack and mud smell，

    Stumps like chewed-off candles，

    Cypress knees， knock and small

    Talk floating over water， a motor

    Chuffing off， a small blue cloud of excess

    Gasoline spreads an ugly

    Rainbow on tan water.  Every

    Thing rests on its proposition

    Including smooth isobars along the bay.

    Since collective thought cannot exist

    As thought it passes into things.

    Chemo takes a few gray hairs.  Mustard

    Cruises the bloodstream under a blizzard

    Of white cells.  Subdued by the arbitrary，

    Suspended， the one in the boat still needs

    To row it —— to direct the muscles， to

    Maintain equilibrium with air

    And water.  If water is waveless

    Then the boat reads by leading marks.

    There is nothing more beautiful

    Than a boat.